Persona Non Grata
by The Green Archer
Summary: "He hadn't just planted that note to steal a few kisses from her, he had done it to escape. To be what he couldn't be under this hood, that charming, carefree nobleman from Firenze." A small bonus scene to the fourth Cristina Mission from AC:B.


_Hello! This is my first Assassin's Creed one-shot, having a need to get some of my story ideas for Ezio out before Connor Kenway starts taking over the franchise in October. I always_ _felt there were a lot of unsaid things about Ezio and Cristina's relationship in Brotherhood, and thought __I'd try writing this as a way of bridging some of those gaps. Anyways, hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Ezio was sitting at the docks of the Dorsoduro District, staring absently at the display fireworks showering out from the _Squero di San Traverso_. He knew he should be at the Doge's party by now, but his mind was lingering on other things. The bitter words that Cristina Vespucci had uttered only fifteen minutes earlier would not leave his mind.

"_Ezio?" she shouted. Her eyes, which had conveyed affection only moments before were filled with rage. "What the _hell _are you doing here? How _dare _you!__"_

"_Cristina, it's alright," he tried to assure her. _

"_Alright? I haven't seen you in _eight _years!" _

"_Si. I was afraid you wouldn't come if I just asked." _

"_You're right!" she snapped, "I wouldn't have! Ezio, the last time I saw you, you kissed me in an alley and left me to be married." _

"_It was the right thing to do. He loved you." _

"_Who cares what he wanted? I loved you! You had your second chance. Please, Ezio, don't ever find me again." _

"Ezio?" the assassin sensed movement and turned to see his old friend Leonardo da Vinci coming down the dock towards him. "_Dio__ mio, _what are you doing here?" he said in surprise. "I expected you would be at the Doge's party already! Did you meet up with Cristina?"

"Si," Ezio replied slowly.

"And?"

"She was not happy to see me."

"Oh," the artist's expression softened. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," the assassin replied. "I shouldn't have tried to find her in the first place. I was a fool to believe she would just put everything behind her after that day in Firenze. I just wanted to see her...so badly."

"Ezio," said Leonardo, "Have you ever considered telling her the truth?" While his tone conveyed light curiosity, the assassin knew him well enough to know he really was really showing concern. He sighed heavily before he answered.

"It's too dangerous Leonardo. Even if I told her the reasons why I left, she wouldn't understand. It's because I _loved_ her that I had to let her go. She could have been captured, or even worse killed! At least with Manfredo, she's safe. At least she can live a life away from all of that."

The artist glanced at the Grand Canal for a moment, resting a hand under his chin. He was never much of a comforter, and yet he found it essential that he think of something to ease the mind of his troubled friend on tonight of all nights. "Ezio," he said as he pointed to the sky, "Look at the view tonight. So many colors, so much movement and vibrancy. But you really need the darkness of the sky to make it all shine. Perhaps, this move with Cristina as unexpected as it may be is only in the grander scheme of things."

Ezio sneered. "Advice from an artist. _Tipico_."

Leonardo put a hand on his shoulder. "I only wish to make you feel better. Try to enjoy yourself. It's Carnivale, remember?"

_"_I know," he replied. _"Grazie amico."_

"I would love to stay," the artist continued, "But I have to meet with some noblemen soon to discuss some new painting commissions. And as I understand, you should be on your way soon as well."

"_Si. _Do not let me keep you, old friend."

"_Arrivederci,_ Ezio."

Once Leonardo had gone Ezio's smile disappeared. He knew his friend only wanted to help, but his words were a far cry from the emptiness he felt in his heart. He pulled his hood off and looked at his reflection in the water. He wasn't a teenage boy anymore, but a young man. In another life, he would be married with a family of his own, working at the bank like his father in Firenze. Instead all he could see a man broken down by ten years of killing. With all the blood he had spilt, some days he feared his reflection would disappear, to be replaced by someone else he didn't recognize. How his father had managed to live such a life and raise a family, he would never know. It was one of many questions he'd never know the answer to now that his life had been lost to the gallows.

But then he would think of Cristina Vespucci, and he didn't feel so lost anymore. He hadn't just planted that note to steal a few kisses from her, he had done it to escape. To be what he couldn't be under this hood, that charming, carefree nobleman from Firenze. Was it so wrong to spend a few moments of with her if it was what he needed to forget his burdens? Was it so wrong to want to be back in a time and place where nothing mattered but their love?

He was at full fault for what had happened back at that alleyway of course. Cristina was not a courtesan he could do with as he pleased. She was a married woman now. If only she could understand his intentions. He was sure she wouldn't have been as quick to push him away back in the alley.

Another firework burst off from the square, breaking the young assassin off from his thoughts. He knew he couldn't stay here all night. He should be making his way to the party before Teodora and Antonio began to wonder what had happened to him.

As he slipped on his silver mask again, he was reminded of the tender kiss he had shared with Cristina just moments before she discovered him; her lips so tender against his own, the smell of her neroli perfume still the same after all these years. He hoped she wouldn't forget that kiss, even if it had been wrong of him. It was the last piece of affection he'd give her. He would honor her wishes of course. He wouldn't try to find her again.

"Cristina," he said softly into the night. "You know I would do anything for a second chance with you. I would have married you, had a family with you. But I am an assassin. That path is no longer for me to choose."

With that, he pulled up his hood and made for the rooftops. Marco Barbarigo would be a dead man by tonight. He may have failed in one mission tonight, but he was determined to make this right before the events of Carnivale had come to an end.

* * *

From the other side of the district, a dark-haired woman stood at the edge of the docks, dangling a gold necklace over the water.

"_Drop it,"_ she told herself firmly. She had held on to the stupid thing for too long already; like the foolish love struck _ragazzina _that she was. There was no more use _pretending _that she and Ezio would always be together, when he had clearly left her for bigger and better things. She should dispose of it now, put the past behind her, _dimenticare._

And yet as the fireworks continued to explode in the distance, her hand remained clamped over the chain.

"_I can't do it," _she realized. This truth overwhelmed her, and she wept as she held the piece of jewelry close to her bosom like a newborn infant she'd just lost and found again. _"Oh, Ezio."_

He may have left her. He may have broken her trust. He may have lost his second chance.

But he still had her heart.


End file.
